


puzzle pieces

by leNa (wavynuggets)



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Adora (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Angst, Anxious Adora (She-Ra), Bow Is a Good Friend (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra (She-Ra) Redemption, Catra is in Love with Adora (She-Ra), Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Feel-good, Fluff and Angst, Glimmer Needs a Hug (She-Ra), Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Queen Glimmer (She-Ra), Romance, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28852404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavynuggets/pseuds/leNa
Summary: in the wake of the war with horde prime, adora, glimmer, bow, and catra are all left with scars—both physical and emotional—that they have to face....but together, all the pieces fall into place and they make the puzzle whole.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow & Glimmer (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Kudos: 31





	1. adora

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of inspired by a very popular hp fanfic that chronicles little snippets of interviews of different characters after the war is said and done. i don't actually remember the name, but if anyone knows what it is please tell me!!

Sometimes, Adora thinks she sees green eyes watching her. 

They follow her down glowing hallways saturated with light and into the room she shares with Catra at night, when soft moonlight spills onto them and Adora memorizes the curves of the bed frame while Catra snores next to her.

Once in a while, after a particularly nasty nightmare, she’ll wake in a panic, breathing heavily and eyes darting around in an attempt to _find them_ , _because she knows that he’s watching her, waiting._

The first time it happened, Catra had jumped out of the bed, eyes wide. And in the dark, still in the haze of sleep, Adora could have sworn that she was back on Horde Prime’s ship, facing a shell of her childhood best friend and the love of her life. 

Catra had grabbed her firmly, tried to ground her back into reality, speaking gently and rubbing circles into the palms of Adora’s hands. 

She ended up on the other side of the room, dazed and the wind knocked out of her. Her sharp gasp for breath is what brought Adora back, had brought tears to blue eyes. 

Apologies had tumbled from Adora’s mouth in rapid succession, only for Catra to pull her into a tight embrace. _It’s okay, Adora. I’m okay._

Now, Catra sits very still, eyes closed, until Adora remembers where she is. Then, hesitantly, she’ll intertwine her hands with Adora’s and begin humming a song from when they were young. She won’t ask what Adora has dreamed about, because Catra almost always knows what Adora needs. 

In those moments, all Adora needs is Catra. 

Months after peace has (more or less) settled over Bright Moon and the rest of Etheria, Adora picks up her sword, letting out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding as her fingers fold over familiar grooves. 

The metal is cool and dust shimmers as the sunlight dances on the blade. Adora still remembers the first time that she picked it up, when she had wielded it with an excitement that can only come from youth and naive glory, when her old life had washed away and her story had been re-written. 

It’s only ever felt as heavy as it does now when she faced Catra at Thaymor. Adora glances over at Catra, who lays bathing in the sun on the edge of a marble fountain, tail flicking side to side impatiently. 

_The Battle of Thaymor_. When she left Catra. 

Once upon a time, this sword—being She-Ra—had seemed like a gift. Now, what bubbles in Adora’s stomach isn’t pride, or joy, but a kind of nausea that makes her think she’s about to retch. 

Adora desperately wants to forget—forget that she’s She-Ra, that sometime later, the future of Etheria and the galaxies may once again rest on her shoulders. She places the sword back on its pedestal, where—Adora thinks bitterly—Glimmer’s advisors had insisted it be placed on display. 

She worries that she won’t be strong enough, that she’ll fail everyone that’s counting on her. Images of her friends laying still on the battlefield and of Catra laughing at her with blank green eyes plague her. 

When she confesses to Catra all of her anxieties at 3 AM, how she doesn’t know how she can protect Etheria when she can hardly stand to look at her sword, how she dreams of death and destruction while she’s frozen in place, how she doesn’t think she can be She-Ra anymore, Catra just listens. 

Listens and listens and listens until finally Adora is out of breath and her voice is raspy. 

“I love you, Adora. You know that, right princess?” It’s only the beginning of Catra’s response, but somehow, those nine words and the familiar endearment are enough to quell the swirling storm in Adora’s mind. It doesn’t make sense, Adora knows, but Catra has always known the exact right (and wrong) things to say. 

She falls asleep with her head in Catra’s lap as gentle fingers run through her hair. 

And when she wakes up, a smile crosses her lips when she sees Catra’s sleeping face and slightly parted mouth.

Then—a bright turquoise eye peeks open. “Hey, Adora.”

Adora can’t help but burst out in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> glimmer's next :)
> 
> comments, questions, and constructive criticism always welcome.


	2. glimmer

Between dull meetings and polite thanks to residents of Bright Moon that come to meet her, Glimmer lets her smile fall. 

She’s exhausted, and barely finds the energy each day to drag herself out of bed, let alone make herself presentable and spend all of her waking hours with—as Glimmer thinks the best way to put it is—a pep in her step. 

She should be grateful, she knows. She’s Queen, after all, and it’s a title that affords her more luxuries and peace of mind than most Bright Moon citizens can dream of. 

But she has never been ready for this title, for the role and responsibilities that weigh down the crown that sits precariously on her head. 

People tell her that they love her—that she’s a great queen. A queen to rival Angella. There’s a sour taste in Glimmer’s mouth when she hears this, but she just lets out an awkward chuckle and urges her hands to stop drumming against her throne. 

_Heavy is the head that wears the crown._

When Glimmer was younger, she used to laugh at her mother’s cliché words. She always had been a confident child. But now, sitting in a seat that threatens to swallow her whole and makes her feel small, she thinks she understands. 

Glimmer keeps her distaste for any matters vaguely related to her role as royalty private for what she thinks is an exceptionally long time. 

It’s when her advisors are berating her for her sloppy performance at last night’s ball under the guise of kind condescension and tight-lipped smiles that she comes to a breaking point. 

Shoving piles of paperwork and perfectly manicured speeches off of the table in front of her in a violent fit, Glimmer rips the crown off of her head and throws it with dagger-like precision. 

It flies past an advisor’s head (Glimmer notes with a burning, guilty satisfaction that said, _least favorite_ , advisor’s eyes have gone wider than a deer’s) and slices through papers that float down to smooth-cut marble. 

Just as it buries itself into the wall, Glimmer teleports out with a loud _pop_ that makes everyone present jump. 

She cackles as she conjures up the image of her advisor once more. Anger, humiliation, and frustration that she has let fester floods out in sparks and screams until—

Glimmer looks around. She has teleported into her mother’s old room. 

Suddenly, she is silent, and she’s not sure she could make a sound even if she wanted to. 

Walking quietly over to a mahogany vanity lined with bright green vines (Micah, Glimmer remembers, must tend to the plants here once in a while), she reaches out and gently raises a delicate pearl-beaded necklace that she has never seen off of her mother’s neck.

It thrums with energy, and when she closes her eyes and clasps her hands around the pearls, Glimmer is certain that she can feel Angella’s presence. 

_It’s okay to mourn her, you know_. 

How many times has Bow said that to her? How many times has Glimmer shrugged and responded with some blasé, curt sentence?

_I don’t need to. I already have. There’s not enough time. I’m busy, Bow._

Now, alone and surrounded by reminders of her mother, Glimmer realizes that she has only cried about her mother’s death once.

_Twice, now_ , she thinks vaguely as she wipes away tears that she can’t seem to control. 

She’s not sure how long she stays there, drowning in memories and in a web of her own spiraling thoughts. 

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she turns around to see Bow, sympathy and understanding in his eyes. 

He sets the crown (he must have pulled it out of the wall, because there’s bits of plaster and marble dust on it) down on the vanity before tugging something out of his bag. It’s a simple silver band with a mini glowing moonstone sitting in the middle. 

“I had it designed for you a while back.” He murmurs as he pulls her into a warm embrace. “I know you don’t like wearing Angella’s.” 

They stay there together for a while before returning to the main palace. 

When Glimmer sits down in her throne next, Bow at her side and Adora and Catra smiling at her from the door, she feels lighter than she has since… before. 

Things aren’t perfect, Glimmer knows. She is not the queen that Angella was. But maybe, just maybe, she thinks, she can get close in her own right.


	3. bow

Once in a while, Bow will catch Glimmer’s eyes drifting towards him when they’re alone together. 

He thinks—or likes to think—that there’s an edge of the old Glimmer when their eyes meet. The one that beamed when he’d crack one of his all-too-cheesy jokes (that Catra loves to roll her eyes at now) and that would accidentally teleport them ten feet above a bush in a cloud of glitter and flashy lights and break out into laughter. 

He’s worried about her. Of course he worries about Adora and Catra too, even though they  _ all _ insist that they’re doing fine, but he wishes that Glimmer would confide in him. 

It’s selfish of him, he considers, to want Glimmer to be open with him and tell him what’s wrong when he can’t bring himself to answer her (rather surface-level) questions of whether or not he’s alright. 

He’s always been a people pleaser. Because after all, Bow thinks, he’s had a good life—gifted with a good family, good connections, good living accommodations, good financial situation. And even though he’s seen some shit in the past couple of years and experienced loss, he’s always known that his friends have had it worse; Glimmer with her mother, Adora with She-Ra and the Horde, Catra with Shadow-Weaver and her own troubled thoughts.

He should be there for them. 

So he holds Glimmer in tight embraces while she clenches her fists and tries her hardest not to cry. He’s by her side, smiling and making atrociously un-funny puns when she’s about to tear her own hair out of frustration from her duties as Queen.

He listens to Adora’s anxious rants while tears pour down her face faster than she can wipe them away with a neutral face and encouraging responses at hand. 

He sits by Catra when he finds her during the day staring out blankly, or in the middle of the night when she’ll sleep-walk out into the lawn and sit under the moonlight as it highlights her sharp features and creased brows. 

And it’s Catra, one night, when soft rain patters at skylights and the moon shines particularly clearly, who turns to him as she awakens. Her eyes are milky but the haze of sleep is fading from them slowly, and they shine brightly with a clarity that makes Bow shiver. 

He shuffles closer to her and she lets out a deep sigh as she falls onto soft grass and looks up at the sky. From here, one of the highest points in Bright Moon, they can see the Milky Way—the galaxies—spread across the sky in a way that reminds Bow of how  _ small _ everyone truly is. 

“Thanks.” Catra says finally, quietly, almost low enough that Bow misses it entirely.

He has almost never heard Catra say that simple word before. 

_ For what _ , he almost wants to ask, as if to indulge in these brief moments that Catra seems willing to express something other than biting sarcasm and defensive insults.

“Thanks for being here.” He doesn’t need to ask, it turns out. “For me, and for Adora. And Sparkles.” 

He responds with something nonchalant.  _ What are friends for, after all _ , he thinks. 

“But you know,” she looks him in the eyes then, and he’s stuck meeting her gaze, because he’s always found her heterochromatic eyes striking, and now, with them lit by the moon, they  _ glow _ .

“It’s okay for you to need some time to yourself. To need some support for  _ you _ .” The irony of  _ Catra _ being the one to point this out to him is a fleeting thought, before the reality of her words begins to set in. 

“You don’t always need to be there for everyone else, Bow. I know it’s hard on you. We’re here for you too.” She almost doesn’t sound like Catra at this point. 

He reflects on her words for several days.  _ We’re here for you too _ . 

The next time Glimmer asks him if he’s alright, and if there’s anything on his mind, he takes a moment to  _ think _ . 

His first instinct is to say,  _ No, nothing’s wrong _ , but he’s reminded of Catra’s words and he pauses. 

Then he starts talking, and he’s so focused on the tightness in his chest that he doesn’t realize that his vision has gone blurry.  _ Why is he crying? _

He looks at Glimmer expecting shock, or uncertainty—because he himself surely didn’t anticipate the tears and the splurge of pure emotion that comes out of him—but sees only comfort and acceptance that makes him let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She takes his hands into her own, and it’s in that moment that Bow realizes—he needs her, and she’ll always be there for him.


End file.
